My play sessions with The Evil Within unintentionally developed into a nightly pattern. I’d start up the game and play through two or three chapters, only to find myself facing an annoying enemy. That annoyance would give way to outright anger—halting my progress until the next evening, when I would make quick work of the foe that had bested me the night before. The cycle would repeat in waves, infrequent highs that kept being dashed by too frequent lows.
There’s a great game within The Evil Within, but a series of questionable choices and bizarre narrative elements hold it back from being that game.